


Opposites don't attract

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bumblebee (2018) - Freeform, Bumblebee-movie, M/M, Rare Pairing, Sparks, Tactile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: Another rare pairing prompt that got me writing: Bumblebee/Drift - movieverse, prompt: upstartDrift arrives to Earth before the rest of the Autobots - and finds Bumblebee there.





	Opposites don't attract

**Author's Note:**

> They meet after Bee got rid of the Cons, but before Optimus & Co arrives. I gave them a few extra days that's not in the film but... so what? :-)  
> Ohh, and Drift looks more or less like he does in the last Bay-movie.  
> And Bee speaks with comms (shown in Italics), because even damage to their voice box doesn't mean they can't talk with comms. Okay, humans don't have those, but Drift does.

To say that Bumblebee immediately hated the newcomer would be a lie. The young scout just didn't do hate, not any other Autobots and certainly not anymech at first sight. And even if he did feel some mistrust, well, he hid it well and didn't let it colour his behaviour. Or so he hoped. Sometimes, oftentimes with the newcomer, it was just hard. He rubbed Bumblebee the wrong way and he didn't think it was him... no, it was the other's attitude. The shiny red-black and gold plating, meticulously kept, like it never saw any battles, the superior swordsmechship he took every opportunity to show off, and... and yes, the faintly disdaining tone of voice he spoke with. And he was already like that the first time they met on Earth...

“You! Scout! Yes, you, with the rusted yellow scrap metal hide!”

Bumblebee whirled around, incredulous. It wasn't an attack, it just didn't feel like it, depite the other mech towering over him by a significant margin, armed with swords but it still felt unreal. He didn't expect any other Autobots – and yes this one was wearing an Autobot badge proudly – any time soon. The beacon has just about called them to Earth!

_“Who are you?”_ He answered by comm, adding his reason for it, the still fresh voice box damage. The other mech nodded, acknowledging his method of conversation while he continued to speak aloud.

“My designation is Drift.” The mechs drew a sword and before Bumblebee could cue up his cannon, he was performing some sort of an... elaborate salute with it? “Where are the Autobot forces on this planet, pray tell me!”

Bumblebee stared. The sword disappeared into its scabbard and the haughty golden face drew to a scowl. It was eerily familiar, something he remembered from Cybertron... yes, Sunstreaker used to have such face down to the disdaining scowl.

“Are you... dumb? Or slow? Where is Command?”

Bumblebee found his comm and his thoughts again and frowned.

_“Nomech is here. I mean, just me.”_

“You?”

The tone was so condescending, it was downright insulting, but Bumblebee did his best not to snarl back. Even though, the earlier comment about his plating was still smarting too.

“Then... who's in command? Whom should I report to?”

Bumblebee did fight a smirk this time, as he answered.

_“I guess... that would be me.”_

“What? No! A simple scout? What would you know about command?”

Bumblebee shrugged, keeping his face impassive.

_“Optimus did put me in charge of the Earth mission.”_

“Optimus Prime? The Prime?”

_“Yes, him.”_

“But... a scout? You? Why?”

But by this time Bumblebee's still faulty memory circuits have finished connecting the dots and he answered a bit more snappishly, though how much of it came through the comm, he wasn't sure. But he was truly nearing the end of his patience.

_“I don't think that an ex-Decepticon, a common Autobot soldier with no rank at all, should dispute Optimus's choice. I was sent here to establish our presence here and if you are really an Autobot, you will help me in this!”_

There was a flash of shock on that golden face, followed by an even faster disappearing snarl... but then Drift stiffly saluted and bowed in a formal manner.

“I would never... dispute the Sensei's order.” 

_“Will you acknowledge my authority?”_

Drift scowled again, but schooled his golden features quickly. Bumblebee was sure he heard the glyphs for 'upstart' but it was so quiet, he ignored it. 

“Yes...”

And he kept ignoring the snide little comments that still came after days while they were making their way westward. They were about his alt-mode, his colours, his battle provess, his ability to foretell where the Autobots would land, his lack of effort in establishing a base for them... anything really – never so much as to be insulting, but always smarting. By the third day, Bumblebee was ready to tell the mech to go back wherever he came from, never mind that they needed every single fighter if the Cons were also heading this way. It was just that annoying.

“What have you done anyway? You said you were on this planet for some time, and what... you befriended with a native?”

_“And I fought off some Cons too.”_

“Really? Who were they?”

Bumblebee glanced at the mech walking by him as they couldn't drive in the thick forest. It was the first time he showed honest interest.

_“Blitzwing, for one. He damaged my voice box. I deactivated him.”_

The blue optics widened slightly and Drift nodded, thoughtful. His voice when he answered was more respectful than ever since they met too.

“He is... well, was then... a worthy opponent.”

Personally, Bumblebee thought that Blitzwing was a big bully, but he kept his opinion for himself. No need to alienate Drift now that he found something he could respect in the young scout.

_“And I also ran into the DJD, but they are gone too.”_

The reaction to that was the strongest Drift has shown so far. He jerked to a sliding stop and whirled to look at Bumblebee, plating slicked tightly to his understructure, his servos finding his sword-handles and tightened on them. If it wasn't fear, then Bumblebee didn't know what it was.

_“You knew them?”_

“The whole DJD? ALL of them? With Tarn and the rest?”

Bumblebee too trembled a bit at the name. He wasn't as familiar with the Cons as Drift – formerly Deadlock – but even he had heard Tarn's designation before and had no wish to meet the mech in the metal.

_“No, no... just Shatter and Dropkick.”_

“Dropkick is an idiot.” Drift told him thoughtfully, optics still rowing around like expecting their topic to jump at them from the bushes. “But Shatter... she is intelligent. And cunning.”

_“Well, they are both deactivated now.”_ While Bumblebee wasn't about to gloat, it still felt good to casually tell that to the stuck-up swordsmech. And reap the approving flash of optics before Drift forced himself to appear nonchalant again. Bee told him the story in short bursts of his comm and tried not to embellish it. Much.

“Are you sure that they are gone?” Drift frowned. “I'm a bit worried about Shatter in particular. She can certainly play deactivated if she feels that course the best. She is the rare kind of a Con, who can think for themselves.”

_“If she is alive, then she is still seriously hurt and alone. And the local authorities now know her colours.”_

“Still, we shouldn't write her off.” Drift frowned, but his field was more friendly than ever and he stepped closer to Bumblebee. “It was quite an accomplishment.”

_“Thank you.”_

Bumblebee still didn't like the mech, but the mood between them was much better now. Drift appeared to give up his disdain – mostly – and Bumblebee acknowledged the ex-Con's knowledge and advice easier. Deadlock, he suddenly remembered, was a fairly high-ranking Con before defecting. Certainly much more accustomed to command that Bumblebee himself.

That night, while they sat under the starry sky, back towards each other and both of them keeping guard, they talked. Without posturing, without disdain or suspicion – just like two mechs, who were far from their home for a long time and alone for most of it. Drift, it appeared was separated from the Autobots early on and floated-travelled-adventured around the galaxy to find them again, when he received the signal. 

“It was the first lead I heard for vorns. Naturally, I came here, hoping to find … the others.”

_“Optimus.”_ The ex-Con seemed to hero-worship Optimus Prime, a sentiment Bumblebee could readily understand and applaud. 

“... Yes.”

_“He will come.”_

Bumblebee twisted to the side to reach backwards, to pat a shiny shoulder-plate. Drift's tone was sad, entirely too sad for such a mech like he was. From personal experience, Bumblebee knew that Optimus never played favourites and certainly never allowed to get closer to any of his soldiers. Any... deeper affection Drift felt towards him, could only be one-sided. 

Drift's plating jerked under his touch and Bee suddenly remembered that one shouldn't just casually touch a Decepticon, even a former one. They tended to react without thinking and react agressively. But Drift only twitched and one servo moved towards a sword-hilt... but otherwise he took it calmly. 

“He will...” 

The golden helm nodded decisively. Drift made no move to shake off the smaller, black servo. He repeated it to himself, maybe to convince himself of it.

“He will.”

Bumblebee smiled sadly. The swodsmech was almost... normal by now, almost likeable. Like all his posturing, all his disdain was a facade only, for some reason. Or was he play-acting now? He didn't have a lot of experience with such mechs, maybe Jazz was similar that one could never know if he was playing or real...

“I've been meaning to ask... well, don't take me wrong, but... why did you pick such a clunker for alt?”

And then he asked something like this and Bumblebee nursed his hurt pride again.

_“It was all I could find then.”_ He answered testily. _“And ever since I hade to hide, escape or fight. I couldn't exactly walk into a showroom and pick a nice, sleek alt.”_

“It's certainly.... quaint. Or it would be if new and clean, I suppose. Your base mode looks... exotic for it.”

_“There are no washrack around here either.”_ Bee snapped. _“Look, you don't have to look at me if you don't like it! I'm not sure how you keep so shiny and polished, but you'll get to look like this soon enough. Esppecially if the Cons find us!”_

There was a strange silence answering him and Bee regretted snapping at him. But Drift just turned slowly and offered him a small canister and a few mesh cloths. Real mesh cloths, the kind Bumblebee haven't seen for... ages. 

“I can help.”

_“Why? What's the point?”_

Drift sighed but kept offering the cleaning supplies.

“I used to be poor before the war. Very poor, the lowest of low. Dirty and unkempt and half falling apart with rust settling on the edges. Just like you look now. Ever since I can, I keep clean, I suppose maybe a bit obsessively. It feels bad to look at you now. It's like seeing my old self or somesuch and it pains me to watch it.”

Bumblebee stared back at the swordsmech. He appeared to be serious and there was no disdain in his features now, only a self-deprecating, sad little smile. And if Bee was honest with himself, he was more than a bit dirty and now, aware of it feeling disgusted with how the oil, dirt and various organic materials created a layer of grime all over his plating. And Drift was offering...

_“Okay...?”_

He took one of the cloths and reciprocated the smile of that golden face. Drift enthusiastically helped him the next few joors to get the grime off of him and between the two of them, they also repaired some damage still lingering from the Decepticon encounters. In the end, Bee felt a whole lot lighter, cleaner and overall better and if he was honest... a lot more aroused too. Drift's touches were professional as he helped, but it was still so long that anyone, a mech touched him – Charlie didn't count, not in this, though Bee highly valued their friendship – that Bumblebee had no resistance whatsoever. It was all he could keep himself from moaning when Drift rubbed the cloth along the edge of a doorwing and still his engine revved loudly, betraying him.

“ _Sorry...”_

But Drift just laughed, a throaty, deep, purring laugh and slid his digits over the edge again, stronger now, deliberately, slowly, sensuously... and Bee couldn't keep the moan back now.

“Do you want this...?”

Did he? He could still disperse the charge if they stopped now, he had done it plenty of times while alone. And it wasn't like he _liked_ Drift, did he? But he didn't _dislike_ the mech now either and the touch was... nice. Bee's resolve wavered and crumbled.

_“Yes...”_

He commed, yes, he nodded, and he did want it suddenly, like an emptiness, a hunger discovered yawning inside, an itch he couldn't scratch, a need, a want he suddenly acknowledged, and discovered existing... and Drift's deft digits scratched the itch, his mouth on Bee's sated the hunger, his larger frame covered the newly cleaned, but still-dinged Beetle and Bee couldn't keep his own servos away even if he wanted to, but he gave up resisting now and touched back.

Shiny, meticulously polished plating slid under his stubby digits, sensors flaring in their wake, zinging, zapping him with tiny, excited bursts of electricity. The metal felt silky smooth and Bee, for a klik was envious. It wasn't like he didn't like nice and sleek alt-modes or wouldn't take one if he found them! But Drift's digits soon banished his thoughts, at least the coherent ones as they slowly mapped his frame and its hotspots. Of which there were many, or at least the swordsmech kept finding them and excite them and rub the sensors to full charge until Bee could hardly do more than cling to his bigger frame and kiss him back, fangs, strange fangs, Con fangs prickling his mouthparts, electricity zinging through his frame and make him moan...

… and then Drift started to move, undulating, rubbing his shiny plating over him, with long, slow, sensuous strokes that burned almost, they were so hot now and sparks jumped off their plating and grounded themselves on the other and each spark felt like a minor supernova going off... Bee grasped desperately for Drift, tried to give him back tried to slow him down, but with little success... Drift just laughed that deep, sensuous laugh and purred deep, deep within his chassis, and it reverberated into his core and Bee saw stars but not on the sky, they were going off in his optic feed and...

“Aaaahhh....!”

He could only give an inarticulate sound, as comms would require more coherency than he had then, but the charge burst out of him, exploded outwards from his spark and Drift caught it and tasted it and returned it, adding his own peasure to it, pushing it back to him like a hot, sparking wave that encompassed him again as they got the exchange going. The pulses volleying between them were like ecstasy and with each exchange they grew until he shouted again, or at least tried to, but Drift could and his deeper voice shattered the quiet of the forest around them...

“Beeeeeeeeee!”

and with a final, mighty push he lobbed back their intertwinned ball of glorious energy and it exploded, swallowing them in its heat and delight, ecstasy and an impossibly high crest of pleasure...

… and Drift slumped on him with a happy, little sigh and optics dark, vocalizer clicking as it reset, a stray zing of electircity from his plating hurrying after its brethen... and Bee felt floating in the wake of that explosion, in that infinite pleasure, within strong arms and a hot field... until he, too reset and blacked out.

Neither of them thought of guarding against any Cons for the rest of the night. The next morning Drift grumbled a little about needing to clean up their plating again, but it wasn't any serious growling so Bee smiled and let him. 

And the next night after that, the Autobots arrived.


End file.
